


only in drugs or death

by noctiphany



Series: little beasts [98]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Forced Orgasm, Implied Suicide Attempt, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Past Child Abuse, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 10:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctiphany/pseuds/noctiphany
Summary: Terry's not mad at him for it. Nothing lasts forever and no one ever really cares, he’s always known that. If your own family never cared about you, why would anyone else?
Relationships: roy harper/terry mcginnis/tim drake
Series: little beasts [98]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/271950
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	only in drugs or death

**Author's Note:**

> More detailed trigger warning and notes at the bottom, includes spoilers.

“You think you’re scary,” Terry says, then smiles, sharp as a knife and just as bloody. His cheek throbs from the backhand, the rings on Bruce’s fingers. “But I’ve seen scary. It’s not you.”

Bruce tells him to get out, but Terry just rolls his eyes, tells him he’s already gone. 

“You’re all alone, you know,” he says, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping the blood on his shirt. "Jason doesn't want you. Harvey doesn't need -" 

Bruce draws his pistol and points it in Terry's face. 

"Get," he says, hand shaking. "Out."

Terry leans in and presses a kiss to the barrel of the gun, licks Bruce's trigger finger. "Don't threaten me with a good time, B," he grins, then turns and walks off, bag of pills in one pocket, four of Bruce's credit cards in the other. 

He thinks Rio's nice this time of year. Maybe he’ll go there.

  
  


: : : 

  
  


His name was Phillip and he was the nice, financially stable accountant his mother married three months after his Dad was shot for running the books for Carmine Falcone. There was a new player in town and they were eliminating as much competition as possible, thinning the herd. Terry hadn't been that broken up about it, had known his Dad was a crook since he was capable of cognitive function, but the man who took his place had been something else. 

The kind of monster Bruce Wayne wasn't. The kind that Bruce used to put down gleefully, back when he used to give a shit about cleaning up the city and not just money and drugs and fucking. Terry was too young though. He'd missed that train. 

By the time Phillip had started coming into his bedroom every night, hand over Terry's mouth, knife to his ribs, Bruce was busy running the drug trade and being balls deep in teenagers. At least, Terry thinks, he's consistent. 

At least he'd made Terry feel good and pretended he gave a shit, even if it didn't last. Terry's not mad at him for it. Nothing lasts forever and no one ever really cares, he’s always known that. When he told his mom about Philip, she kicked him out. When he told Matt, he called him a liar, that he was just doing it for attention. That he was just jealous of Matt because Phillip liked him more. God, Terry hoped that wasn’t true. But yeah, if your own family didn't give a shit about you, why would anyone else? If anything, Terry's thankful for the reminder. He was starting to get comfortable and that - - that's when the bad shit happens. 

Terry sits on the curb and fishes the cards out of his pocket, the baggie of pills, swallows a handful, then pulls his phone out and looks up flights. In the middle of booking one to Cabo, a text pops up in the middle of his screen. 

_ got some good shit. u interested?  _

It's Roy. Terry likes Roy, he's not quite as scary as the rest of Bruce's boys, and that's probably because Roy technically isn't. Maybe that's why Terry likes him so much. Roy seems like he gets it, like he knows you don't get attached to anyone, that you have to look out for number one before all else. Terry respects that about him. Also, his dick is fucking huge. But - 

_ Tim's in seoul _

Terry grins and texts back. 

_ omw _

: : : 

They get stoned first and Terry spends two hours with Roy's cock in his mouth, licking at it and sucking on it, drooling all over it while Roy hums and pets his hair and tells him how fucking  _ good _ he feels. Okay, maybe not two hours, but Roy's weed is so good it makes time feel warped, like it's caving in on itself. Or maybe that's because of the pills he took before he came over. Whatever it is, Terry feels  _ good.  _ Roy never even comes, but neither of them seem to care. Terry thinks he could just lay there and let Roy slowly fuck his mouth forever, like he could fall asleep and wouldn't mind if Roy kept going, wonders if he'd wake up when he finally came in his mouth. 

At some point Roy slips something purple onto Terry's tongue and a little while later he has him bent in half, fucking his tongue inside of him, and Terry's so high he can't even scream, just grips the sheets and writhes. Maybe he says Roy's name over and over until he doesn’t sound like words anymore, or maybe he comes up with a brand new language, or maybe he just keep chanting  _ pleasepleasepleaseplease  _ like a prayer. Terry raises an arm and does a hail Mary over his chest and giggles. 

He comes on three of Roy's fingers and the memory of communion, Father McNair putting wafers on his tongue, fingers lingering on his mouth longer than he should.

"Fuck me," Terry sings, like the good little choir boy he was. "Roy, Roy, fuck me, fuck, make me - - make me -" 

He doesn't know what he wants Roy to make him. Come? Forget? No, he wants Roy to make him into something new, take him apart and put him back together in a way he hasn't tried before. He'll never be  _ right,  _ too many broken pieces with jagged edges, he'll never really make something whole again, but at least he can shuffle the pieces around and fill the holes with other things until he gets bored again, needs to be remade again. 

Roy's leans against the headboard, hands on Terry's chest as Terry rides him, pinching Terry's nipples until they feel like they're going to bleed, when Terry hears  _ oh she's sweet but a psycho, a little bit psycho -  _ and Roy grabs his phone from the nightstand, winking at Terry before answering it. 

"Hey baby," he says. "How's Korea?" 

Terry's dick twitches at the thought of Tim on the other end. He still doesn't quite know what to make of him. He's hot as fuck, but in the same way that freefalling off a cliff would be. Hella fun on the way down...and then you die. Still though, worth it for the rush. 

The rush. That’s what Terry uses to fill all those holes inside him, driving 150 in the city, fucking a crime boss, doing enough coke to put down a whale, staring down the barrel of a gun. Whatever gets his heart rate up, gets his blood pumping, reminds him he's  _ alive.  _ That he won't always be. Doesn't  _ have  _ to be. 

Terry moans, loud and long, and Roy arches an eyebrow at him, grips Terry's hip with his free hand and fucks up into him, pulling another moan out of him, even louder this time. Tim must say something to him because Roy just grins and pulls the phone away from his ear, puts it on speaker and lays it on the bed next to them. 

"Kay," Roy says. "He can hear you."

Terry swallows, then Roy reaches between them and wraps his hand around his dick and Terry can’t help the whine that spills out. 

“Terry,” Tim’s voice comes from Roy’s phone, just as spine-chilling and monotone as usual. “My boyfriend’s cock feel nice inside of you?” 

Terry bites down on his bottom lip and whimpers. Roy’s dick is grinding against his prostate and his thumb is swiping over the head of his cock and Tim is  _ so fucking scary.  _ He thinks he’s going to come again. 

“Oh,” he gasps, sharp, Roy’s hand jerking him hard, fast, his eyes heavy and intense as they bore into Terry’s, even while he grins like he’s having the time of his life. “I -”

“It’s thick, right,” Tim says. “Long, too. Hits you everywhere, doesn’t it?”

“Fu-” Terry gasps, the rest of the word fucked out of him when Roy thrusts up into him, knocking the air from his lungs. 

“Roy,” Tim says. “Make him come.” 

And pathetically, Roy doesn’t even have to  _ do _ anything, all it takes is Tim’s voice, the threat in his tone, the sheer danger of being on his boyfriend’s dick while he’s in another country, and Terry’s back arches and he’s coming  _ again, _ so soon that it’s almost painful. He cries out as Roy’s lets go of him and grips both of his hips again, fucking up into him so hard Terry’s bouncing on his cock, almost sobbing from how oversensitive he feels. 

“I can’t,” Terry pants. “I can’t -- Roy, stop, please. I  _ can’t _ .”

“No,” Tim’s voice comes from the other end of the line, somehow even darker and scarier than before. “Don’t stop, Roy. Keep fucking him.”

Terry whines louder now, hiccuping on a sob as Roy’s cock drives into him, ramming his oversensitive prostate with each thrust. Not only is he using his feet on the bed as leverage to fuck up into him, Roy's also got a tight hold on Terry’s hips and is yanking him down onto his cock with each thrust inside of him, getting him that much deeper, railing his prostate that much harder. 

“Please,” Terry cries out, body trembling. He feels like he’s literally going to shake apart this time. “No more, please -”

“Roy, can you gag him,” Tim says, unimpressed, and Roy just laughs, still fucking Terry with a kind of ferocity that’s making his vision white out. 

“I kinda like it, baby,” Roy says. “You never get this loud for me.”

“Fuck you,” Tim says. “Tell that to the Four Seasons in Manhattan.” 

Roy laughs again and Terry has a sudden realization that he doesn’t belong here, that he should have just left, ignored Roy’s text. Tim hates him, he’s going to fucking  _ kill _ him for fucking Roy whenever he gets back to the states and -

“I want to hear him come again,” Tim says. “Do you think you can get him to?”

Roy looks up at Terry and licks his lips, like the big bad wolf when he saw Little Red walking all alone in the woods and Terry -

“Oh my god.” 

Roy just grins and pulls out of him, flips him over so that he’s on his stomach, and Terry’s too weak and fucked out to do anything but lie there and let Roy manhandle him. 

“Face down,” Tim says over the phone, almost like he can fucking  _ see _ them, the creep. “Ass up.”

And Roy complies, hand on the back of Terry’s head as he shoves his cock back inside of him and Terry presses his face into the mattress to muffle the scream that’s forced out of him somewhat. 

“Nope,” Roy says, grabbing a fistful of Terry’s hair and lifting his neck off the bed. “You heard him, kiddo. He wants to hear you.” 

Terry screams again, a combination of Roy pulling his hair and fucking him hard and brutal and just the idea of Tim  _ wanting _ to hear him, of wanting anything to do with him, really. 

“My plane is boarding in about ten minutes,” Tim says conversationally. “If you don’t come before I have to hang up this phone I’m going to be really fucking disappointed.” 

Oh  _ god.  _

“Roy,” Terry mumbles, brain working overtime trying to manage to put together a coherent sentence. “H-harder. I -- I want -”

“You wanna come for him, don’t you,” Roy says, fingers like a vice around his hips now, so tight Terry feels like he’s going to have bruises on his  _ bones _ in the morning. 

“Yeah,” Terry moans, working one of his arms under himself to get his hand around his dick. God, it’s so hard to touch it, it’s too sensitive, but he has to. He wants to. He -- he doesn’t want to disappoint Tim. “Yeah, fuck,  _ please. _ ”

“Mm, that’s a good boy,” Roy says and then Tim’s swearing on the other end of the line, and it almost sounds like a moan, and that’s when it hits Terry what he’s doing. Tim’s getting off to Roy fucking him, in some airport bathroom, and --

“God, Tim, I  _ can’t, _ ” Terry sobs. Fuck, he feels like he’s going to cry. He just can’t come again. It hurts, everything is so sensitive. The overstimulation is making him crazy, he  _ can’t.  _

“Terry,” Tim says through the speaker. “I’ll be back around eight your time. When I get there, I want you tied to my bed, spread eagle, naked and hard. I want to see how pretty you bleed for me. Would you like that?”

Terry’s hearing completely goes out along with his vision. If Tim says anything after that, he completely misses it. His body jerks so hard he nearly unseats himself from Roy’s cock, but Roy holds him there, holds him  _ tight _ , and Terry does it. He comes again, for the third time that night, comes screaming. Roy’s name, Tim’s name, he has no idea. He doesn’t care. He comes so fucking hard he literally blacks out. 

When he finally comes back to reality, Roy’s lying next to him, fingers tracing a scar on his wrist. Depending on how long Terry was out, he probably saw the matching one on the other arm.

“How did you get this,” he says, picking Terry’s wrist up and brushing his lips across it. "Or should I ask, when did you get this?"

Terry blushes and tries to move away, but Roy grabs him by the waist, holds him there. Forcibly spoons him. Terry both hates it and loves it. It’s complicated. 

“You’re okay,” he says behind Terry’s ear. “I mean, you’re not. But who is? You’re not special, princess.” Then he turns Terry’s face enough so he can kiss him on the mouth, something they didn’t actually do a whole lot of tonight. 

Oddly enough, it might be the most comforting, reassuring thing anyone’s ever said to him. 

After he showers and puts some clothes back on, Terry grabs his phone and checks his messages. Then, he pulls up his email and cancels the flight he booked earlier. 

Maybe he’ll try to stick around a while. Even if it’s like freefalling, Terry thinks it still might be worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a couple of more detailed trigger warnings/notes, spoilers obvs:
> 
> -underage and non-con warnings are implied/referenced past occurences, not something that happens in the actual fic.  
\- not super graphic, but definitely mentions of past CSA by a step-father, and implied by a priest.  
\- implied suicide attempt (reference to scars on wrists)  
\- domestic violence (sort of. this is probably minor af but sometimes *I* would like to be warned for stuff like this, so Bruce does backhand Terry once, and draws his gun on him.)


End file.
